


turn the radio off

by folignos



Series: let's tell it how it is [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/pseuds/folignos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny’s halfway through unpacking his first box of clothes when he feels Brent drape himself over his shoulders, biting at his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turn the radio off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alotofthingsdifferent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/gifts).



> amanda is pretty great and has been having a rough go of things, so i wrote her this. surprise!
> 
> i think i'm gonna have to stop writing in this verse soon i'm running out of salt n pepa lyrics to use as titles. that being said, eventually i will have to write something with plot and not just random pwps
> 
> come follow me on [tumblr](http://rraantasaurus.tumbr.com)!

Jonny’s halfway through unpacking his first box of clothes when he feels Brent drape himself over his shoulders, biting at his neck.

‘Hey, you,’ he says, turning to brush his lips over Brent’s temple. ‘I thought you were handling the kitchen stuff?’

‘I got bored,’ Brent admits. ‘Thought I’d come see what you were doing.’ He pauses. ‘Also I thought we could unpack the bed sheets first.’

‘Yeah?’ Jonny asks, turning in his arms. ‘I don’t think I remember which box I put them in. Guess we’ll have to unpack all of them to find out.’

Brent pouts. ‘Or,’ he says, and Jonny looks at him. He knows exactly what Brent’s going to say. ‘Or we could just christen the other rooms in the house,’ Brent says, eventually, and Jonny laughs.

‘I blew you in the truck like an hour ago,’ Jonny says. ‘We’ve had the keys to this place for _twenty minutes_. You’re ridiculous.’

‘You love me,’ Brent says, grabbing his ass.

Jonny hums, sliding his hands over Brent’s hips. ‘You seem very sure of that.’

‘I’m a smart guy,’ Brent says. ‘Just because I’m not a _fancy Harvard student_.’

Jonny slaps his hip. ‘Asshole. Now I’m definitely not letting you fuck me over the back of the couch.’

‘No?’ Brent asks, and ducks down, hooks his hands under Jonny’s thighs, and picks him up. Jonny yelps, and wraps his arms around Brent’s neck before he can drop him on the bed. ‘That’s fine,’ he says, nosing at Jonny’s collarbone. ‘I can fuck you right here.’

-

Jonny’s a little disappointed that Brent does not, in fact, fuck him right there.

The bedroom’s small enough that he can pretty much turn around and it’s only a couple of feet from the bed to the wall, and Brent presses him up against it, Jonny’s legs around his waist, back pressing against the cool wallpaper where his shirt’s ridden up. Brent’s hands are splayed across his ass and lower back, holding him up.

Jonny’s throat is hot where Brent’s bitten a bruise into it, big and warm and claiming, and he can feel Brent’s erection pressing against his ass through both their pants.

‘You gonna fuck me like this?’ Jonny asks, breathless.

‘Nah,’ Brent says, regretful. ‘My back.’

Jonny laughs into his shoulder. ‘Old man.’

‘Old enough to kick your ass,’ Brent says, letting go of Jonny’s ass so he can unwind his legs, and setting him down on the ground.

‘Too old to fuck me?’ Jonny asks, giving him a smirk.

Brent’s face tightens. ‘Never,’ he says, eyes hot.

Jonny’s smirk widens, challenging, for about a second and a half, before Brent’s mouth crashes into his, and he kisses it off.

-

‘Couch?’ Brent asks, after Jonny rips through a couple of boxes looking for sheets. He flat out refuses to fuck on their just out of the plastic bare mattress.

Jonny huffs. ‘ _Fine._ ’

‘So grumpy for someone who’s just about to get laid,’ Brent teases, lacing his fingers with Jonny’s. ‘Come on. I’ll make it good for you. Promise.’

-

Brent’s hands are huge and callused and Jonny doesn’t ever think he’ll get bored of feeling them on him. He peels Jonny out of his shirt and skims his palms down the sides of his ribcage, just skirting the edges of where he’s most ticklish.

Jonny squirms anyway, strains his neck for a kiss that doesn’t come. Brent’s too busy watching the flush spread across Jonny’s chest, balanced over Jonny’s thighs as he is.

‘Get down here,’ Jonny complains, fisting his hands into Brent’s shirt and tugging, hard, until he feels Brent’s lips on his, rough and claiming, while his hands sneak underneath the waistband of his sweats.

‘Are you wearing my clothes again, Toews?’ Brent murmurs, when he finds the double knotted drawstring that Jonny uses to keep them up.

‘Maybe,’ Jonny says, defiant. ‘You got a problem with that, Seabrook?’

Brent throws his head back and laughs, before picking at the knot, tongue poking out between his teeth. Jonny loves him so much he’s _stupid_ with it.

He finally gets Jonny out of his sweats. ‘Stop stealing my shit,’ he mock-growls, palming at Jonny’s dick through his underwear.

‘Never,’ Jonny says, rolling his hips into the touch. ‘Those are yours too, by the way.’

‘Thief,’ Brent says, hooking his fingers into them. ‘I’m just gonna steal them back.’

He tugs them down over Jonny’s thighs carefully, following the waistband with his tongue along Jonny’s inner thigh, trailing the point of it down the line of muscle, kissing the side of his kneecap, where he has a faint scar.

Jonny’s dick bobs against his stomach, leaving a smear of pre come just below his belly button. Brent glances up the line of his body and gives Jonny a look that honestly, he can only describe as predatory.

He finishes tugging the underwear off, tosses them into the corner of the room. Jonny can feel himself sticking to the leather of the couch already, and shifts, pulling a face.

‘You wanted to get leather so it would be easy to clean,’ Brent says, mouthing at Jonny’s thigh.

‘I didn’t realise you were going to fuck me on it the first day we had it,’ Jonny says. ‘I would have insisted on fabric.’

‘It’s like you don’t even know me,’ Brent says, biting Jonny’s hip before kissing his way up his belly.

Jonny grumbles. Brent tweaks a nipple, making him gasp. ‘Dirty pool,’ Jonny manages, when he does it again, swatting at him clumsily. ‘Hurry up and fuck me.’

Brent looks apologetic. ‘So, uh. We didn’t unpack the bathroom yet.’

Jonny looks down at him, impatient. ‘What’s your point?’

‘The lube is in one of the bathroom boxes.’

Fuck. Jonny lets his head fall back to the couch. ‘I hate you,’ he says. ‘We’re breaking up, I’m going back to Chicago without you.’

Brent laughs, and ducks his head, blowing warm air over the head of Jonny’s dick. ‘That’s an out and out lie, Jon, and you know it. You couldn’t leave me if you wanted to.’

Brent wraps his lips around Jonny’s dick, and sucks gently, tonguing at the slit. Jonny’s hand slides into his hair automatically, pulling.

Brent swallows him down easily, and Jonny tightens his fist in Brent’s hair. He moans, and the vibrations travel down his dick to the pit of his stomach.

Brent’s blowjobs are always wet and sloppy. He told Jonny once that he likes making a mess of him and on him, and there’s already saliva sliding down the length of his cock, over the fingers curled tightly around the base of it.

‘Fuck, Brent,’ Jonny breathes, free hand scrabbling on the slippery leather of the couch. ‘ _Fuck_.’

Brent hums. Jonny thinks he’s laughing at him, but his hips jump up, anyway. Brent chokes a little, eyes watering, but his throat keeps working, and Jonny loosens his grip in Brent’s hair, stroking through it, pushing it out of his face. ‘Your hair’s getting long,’ Jonny says, quietly.

Brent glances up at him through the strands that have already fallen back down, and pulls off. ‘You want me to cut it?’ he asks, hoarse.

Jonny runs his hands through it again. ‘Nah,’ he says, rubbing his thumb over Brent’s temple. ‘I like it.’

Brent grins at him, and slides back down onto his dick, easy, starting a bobbing rhythm that makes Jonny’s balls tighten almost immediately. Brent pulls off again and mouths up and down the shaft, even sloppier. There’s a line of saliva connecting his lower lip and Jonny’s cock. Jonny’s kind of mesmerised by it.

Brent’s hand starts working, thumb pressing hard against the vein on the underside of Jonny’s dick, and he works the point of his tongue into Jonny’s frenulum relentlessly until Jonny’s back arches and he comes all over Brent’s lips and cheeks.

Brent looks incredibly smug when Jonny opens his eyes again, chest heaving. ‘Welcome to Boston,’ he says, and laughs when Jonny hauls him into a bitter tasting kiss.


End file.
